


Milkman

by strengefruit



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M, No explicit Jack/Ianto but let's be real we know it's always lurking in the background, Post-Episode: s01e04 Cyberwoman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 08:24:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5490389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strengefruit/pseuds/strengefruit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a bit of post-Cyberwoman Ianto lovin' because ROBOTS = AWESOMESAUCE. In my mind it secretly continues on from my first TW fic (<a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5489273">Late Night in the Girl's Room</a>) but really they're two separate entities.</p>
<p>Long story short, Jack is nice to Ianto even though he nearly just destroyed humanity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Milkman

The first day, Ianto didn’t go in to work. He couldn’t actually remember going to sleep, but he must have at some point because he woke up and through bleary eyes saw the numbers on the clock spelling out 12:07pm, making him a good six hours late.

Cursing, he jumped out of bed and was halfway to the bathroom when Ianto remembered why half his night was lost to alcohol and he was feeling like someone had reached inside and tore his guts out. Ianto stopped mid-stride and stared blankly ahead, at a complete loss of what he should do. He had so many plans before yesterday. So many things he was going to do with his life.

And they had all involved Lisa.

Ianto sat down and leaned back against the wall, resting his head against his knees. Dull pain behind his eyes spoke of oncoming tears, but he was so bloody sick of crying. If he continued to just sit there he knew thoughts of yesterday would overcome him and he’d break down again, but the very idea of going into work and facing his coworkers made his stomach twist in knots. So he stood up and set about finding anything he could to distract him.

Considering the fact that he had rarely spent more than a few hours at a time grabbing a quick nap or changing his clothes in his flat over the past few months, there were more than enough distractions to be found. Throwing on a pair of jeans and the first shirt he could find, he started in the living room, attacking the fine layer of dust that had settled over the room. From there he moved on to the kitchen, scrubbing every pot, pan, and utensil that crossed his path. Ianto’s focus almost wavered when it came time to descale the kettle, but he told himself he was being ridiculous. Even still, it felt like he was letting go of something important as he watched the dirty vinegar mixture pour down the drain.

Darkness settled in as Ianto moved from room to room, cleaning anything and everything he could find. He was wiping down the sink in his bathroom when he heard the sound of someone knocking on the door of his flat, bringing him out of his daze. He thought to ignore it, not knowing if he was able yet to hold it together when faced with another person, but instead of stopping the knocking grew louder and more persistent and he knew he’d have to deal with it.

Sighing, Ianto put down the sponge and headed towards the door. It was only a matter of time before someone came to check up on him and make sure he hadn’t done something desperate. His hand froze on the deadbolt, however, when the person outside his flat called out his name and he realized who it was.

It would be Gwen who came, he had figured, or Tosh. But no, the voice on the other side of the door was unmistakably _Jack_.

“Ianto!” Jack’s voice became more insistent, “If you don’t answer me I’m going to shoot the lock out so help me!”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Ianto said, not really raising his voice but speaking loud enough that the other man could hear him through the thick wood.

There was a brief pause, and then Jack spoke, this time much calmer. “Are you going to open the door?”

Ianto lowered his hand, leaving the deadbolt locked in place. “No.”

“Ianto, open the door,” Jack ordered angrily.

“We’re not at work _Jack_ ,” Ianto replied, not trying to hide the edge from his own voice and hoping the lack of formalities would get the message across. “You can’t give me orders and expect me to follow. And we both know you’re not going to shoot your way in here.”

There was more silence, followed by a rustling sound that Ianto couldn’t quite place.

“I’m going now,” Jack said, his voice dropped to the point where Ianto had to strain to hear him through the door. “I’ve left something outside your door. It’s.. it’s safe. If you know what I mean.”

Ianto was pretty sure he did know.

Jack didn’t wait for a reply. “I expect you back in tomorrow,” he said, and then Ianto could hear his footsteps as he walked away down the hallway. Even still, Ianto waited a few minutes, breathing as quietly as possibly, before opening his door to see what was out there.

A small takeaway bag was sitting at his feet, and when he picked it up and looked inside he found curry and, of all things, a bottle of milk. Ianto couldn’t help but smile to himself; he really did know what Jack had meant. Retcon was effective when mixed with any liquid known to man, but milk was always problematic as it wouldn’t dissolve readily and could therefore be detected by the drinker.

Ianto closed and locked the door behind him then went to the kitchen and set the bag down on the table. He’d deal with it later; right now there was still a sink to finish. Except the food was left forgotten, because when he ran out of things to clean Ianto finally allowed himself to collapse onto his bed and cry.

 

The second day, Ianto was woken by his alarm and slipped right into his normal morning routine. By exactly 6:00am he was standing outside the entrance to the tourist information centre, trying his very best not to vomit up the toast he had just eaten. Even in the morning light everything seemed darkened by the events that had occurred there two days ago. But Jack had ordered him back to work, and Ianto didn’t want to think about what his other options might be.

“Fuck it all,” he swore, mostly directed towards himself, and threw open the door and walked inside as if he had something to prove. If he didn’t want to be retconned back to primary school he’d have to do his job. The knowledge that his memories were now all that was left of Lisa propelled him forward, in the secret entrance and down the stairs.

Of course, his resolve disappeared completely as the cog rolled away and he stepped into the hub proper.

Gwen was already there, standing up in the conference room with Jack, and although it surprised Ianto it made him feel better to know it wasn’t just the two of them. The cut on Jack’s lip served as a reminder of Ianto’s crimes, and even when Jack gave him a quick nod as if to say it was alright, Ianto knew one thing quite clearly: it was going to be a bloody long day.

So he did the only thing he could do, he cleaned.

It amazed him how much rubbish could accumulate after only one day, and he wasted no time in gathering it all up, trying to ignore the two people watching him. Though it was probably their eyes on him that allowed him to keep his composure as he stuffed the Jubilee Pizza box into the bag and tried not to think of the poor girl who was just trying to do her job.

Tosh arrived around a quarter to eight, and by the time Owen strolled in at nine o’clock Ianto had finished cleaning the main area and prepared the first round of coffee for the day. As he set Tosh’s mug down by her elbow she stopped what she was doing and smiled up at him.

“Thank you Ianto,” she said, and he was so caught off guard by the acknowledgement that he just stammered out a quiet “you’re welcome” and hurried off to Gwen’s desk. She also smiled and thanked him, and Ianto found himself wishing he could be invisible like he always used to be. Like he used to wish he wasn’t. Owen, thankfully, seemed to be quite happy to pretend that Ianto wasn’t there when his coffee was delivered.

Which left Jack.

The captain was sitting at his desk, rifling through an open file folder, and didn’t look up when Ianto entered his office. He remained silent as Ianto set the coffee down within reach, and counting his blessings Ianto went to leave.

And that’s when Jack spoke up.

“It’s been taken care of.”

Turning back around, Ianto could see that Jack had stopped what he was doing and was now looking straight at him. He had to try his hardest not to flinch under Jack’s gaze. “Taken care of?” he asked.

“All of it,” Jack continued, “There’s nothing left.”

A thousand words raced through Ianto’s mind, but none found their way out. Instead, he turned and left the office, walking as quickly as he could away from Jack, past the others who were trying to not be obvious as they watched him, not really thinking about where he was going, just _going_. When he finally reached the basement room where he had kept Lisa hidden away he paused. The windows were black, of course, as there wasn’t a reason for a light to be on anymore. Knowing what he would find inside, however, couldn’t stop him from needing to look.

Ianto reached into his pocket for the key and had a brief moment of panic when he remembered that it had been taken by Jack, but breathed a sigh of relief when he tried the door and found that it wasn’t locked. Once inside, he spent a few seconds fumbling for the light switch and then the room was filled with a dull light. Where once had stood the remains of a cyber-conversion unit there was now nothing. It was as if the last few months had been wiped clean, and not a trace of blood or metal remained. He knew the machinery was the reason for the hell his life had become, but a part of him felt as if it was all he had left of Lisa and the emptiness of the room struck him deeply.

Walking to the center of the room Ianto sat down, closed his eyes, and tried to remember it as it was: the smell of the cold steel, the sound of the machines as they kept her alive. If he were to only reach out his fingers would brush against her side, where there was still visible flesh. At that thought Ianto finally started to cry. He felt so selfish for preferring the state Lisa had been in to her being gone, and for wishing that she was still here suffering so that he could feel better. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to move.

But eventually he had to. He was surprised, glancing down at his watch, that he had been down there for over an hour. Ianto stood up slowly, his legs protesting the movement after being still for so long, and allowed himself one last glance about the room. He didn’t think he’d come back there again.

When Ianto re-entered the main hub everyone stopped what they were doing to look at him inquisitively, but he kept walking. He didn’t want to spend the rest of the day dodging awkward questions and discrete glances, so retreating to the tourist office seemed to be the most viable option. He felt safe up there at his own desk, surrounded by brochures and maps and poor attempts at interior design.

Once he was safely above sea level he stayed up there for the rest of the day, going through the mess that was the database. When Ianto first started at Torchwood Three he was glad to be assigned the task because it gave him access to all the Hub’s secrets - which he then used to his advantage smuggling Lisa in and keeping her hidden. Now it was just another monotonous job to keep him distracted. And it worked, because somehow he made it through the rest of the day without incident.

Because it was a quiet night, his coworkers started to slip out around 7 o’clock and for once Ianto thought he would do the same. He sent Jack a quick message to let him know that he was leaving, then shut down his workstation and made his way home.

Sadly no dust had accumulated over the past 24 hours and alphabetizing his movie collection didn’t hold the joy it once did, so instead he settled on watching a film that he figured he could sit through without it triggering any unwanted tears. He was halfway through when there was the somewhat expected sound of knocking at his door. This time he didn’t keep Jack waiting, but he didn’t open the door either.

“Hello Jack,” he said through the door, not giving away any emotion with his greeting.

“I take it you’re still not going to let me in?” came Jack’s reply.

“Yeah, it seems that way.”

“Then I’ll see you at work tomorrow,” Jack said, and then the now familiar rustling noise followed by footsteps retreating down the hall. Ianto was surprised at how easily Jack had given up, but he refused to admit to himself that he was also a little disappointed.

Opening the door, he looked down and saw that tonight it was Italian takeaway. His stomach suddenly felt very empty, and he realized that he hadn’t really eaten anything much that day, aside from the coffee that Tosh brought him.

“Oh what the hell,” he said to no one in particular, then grabbed the bag and went back into his flat to finish the movie. Ianto laughed in spite of himself when he found that the pasta was accompanied by another bottle of milk.

Smiling, he looked into the bottom of the bag to see if there were any utensils, and then froze.

A very familiar something was poking out from where it was carefully stored beneath the napkins. With a trembling hand he reached in and pulled out the framed picture of himself and Lisa that he had placed beside the modified cyber-conversion unit. The two people in the photo beamed up at him, so very much in love.

“You bastard,” he said, not bothering to hold back the tears, “I thought you said there was nothing left.”

 

The third day, Ianto opened the door.


End file.
